


Intermezzo: Drinks with the Headmistress

by FawkesyLady (Tarma)



Series: Songs of Joy and Peace [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, Flirting, Foot Massage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-18 18:18:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13105851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarma/pseuds/FawkesyLady
Summary: Minerva McGonagall, Connie Rolle, and Whittington Nott share a nightcap after the Yule Ball to plot ... erm ... toast the future successes of Hermione Granger and Severus Snape's budding romantic relationship. They ship it.





	Intermezzo: Drinks with the Headmistress

**Author's Note:**

> [Havelocked](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Havelocked/pseuds/Havelocked) has been quite generous with her beta-skills and time, and is a lovely person. Thank you. I sing the Hedgehog Song silently out of respect.

Minerva sighed, settling into a chair beside the roaring fire in her office. Her feet felt like they had been slathered in fresh stinging nettles then rolled over repeatedly with a carriage wheel. She was grateful that the Yule Ball only happened once a year, only eclipsed by the graduation. Still, she reflected that it had been a very successful evening. She and Professor Rolle had been working on trying to set Hermione Granger, currently filling the post of Professor of Ancient Runes, and Severus Snape up and tonight was the culmination of a series of machinations and bumbling that had finally paid off. 

 

A hand passed into her vision, presenting a glass of something clear with what looked like mint in the bottom. She should be playing hostess, but after a long evening she was ready to sit and let someone else get the drinks for once. “Thank you, Connie.” 

 

“Glad to help. Are you sure you don’t want to go and lie down, Minnie? Truly you look fagged out.” 

 

The Headmistress swiveled to regard the Arithmancy Professor who was not that much younger than herself. “Flattered, I’m sure.” She lifted the glass and sniffed at it. Gillywater with a tang of something intriguing. Not quite mint. She lifted her drink to regard it in the light of the fireplace, trying to divine what was in there. 

 

Movement in front of the fire distracted her, and she was somewhat surprised to see Sir Whittington Nott, Connie’s date for the Yule Ball, settling himself on a pouf that he must have conjured from somewhere. “Give us your feet, Professor.” Without waiting for a response, he claimed one of Minerva’s booted feet and began the process of laboriously undoing the laces. 

 

Nott had taught Defense Against the Dark Arts years ago, but was diverted to the war effort back in 1977. He and Conrad Rolle knew one another from that same era. The nature of their relationship was rather open, which Minerva gathered was one of Whit’s requirements, and Connie’s tolerance was what kept him coming back around. Connie, sometimes Conrad, was gender fluid and used her magic to alter her body to suit the way she felt that particular day. Whit was never phased by the variation, and the two had formed an irregular kind of attachment. 

 

However, McGonagall had never really truly relaxed around Nott. They were always at odds with one another when he was on staff. He always had the air of a predator that put her on edge. She knew that he was a good man and had seen him in action in the past, but she didn’t like his tendency to wander and show up in odd places. Dreams, for example. He was unsettling. Outwardly he resembled nothing more than a broad shouldered bearded wizard whose hair had gone silver, but he still radiated a depth that didn’t fit his amiable, unassuming manners. 

 

These misgivings were forgotten once he had freed her feet from their leather confines and his warm, strong hands started to rub at the knots that had formed on the ball of her foot. “Unhh. You’re a damned saint, Whit.” 

 

Connie had concocted something for Whit and herself from the Headmistress’ bar and came over to perch on the edge of a settee. “Devil, more like. Always present for the hellraising, absent for the aftermath.” 

 

Whit arched one  shaggy eyebrow as he continued to work. “You’re one to talk, Connie. What did you do to poor Severus? I’ve never seen him so happy. It was disturbing, honestly. Merlin’s beard, I think I heard him laughing!” 

 

Connie took a sip of her shimmering pink cocktail and smirked over the glass. “ _ I _ saw him blush.” 

 

Minerva sat up straight at that, almost kicking Whit in the chest but for his swift grasp on her ankle. “I would have never thought that possible! Severus Snape, blushing.”  A sweet smile played across her wrinkled face. “Oh, but I do hope this lasts.” 

 

Smirking, Whit applied pressure to Minerva’s knee. “What do you think Granger will do when she finds out about Veronica?” 

 

Hastening to defend her strategy, Connie scolded, “Oh, pish. You worry too much, Whitikins. Sevvy had a brilliant plan to get her out of the picture, and so he has. There is no reason whatsoever that Veronica Medici will ever need to set foot on these hallowed shores ever again.” 

 

Deflating, Minerva, groaned. “Connie, I know you meant well. But don’t you think that was rather dangerous?” 

 

Whit applied pressure to the bottom of Minerva’s foot and she emitted a distinctive little prrrrt before she could assert her self-control. She took another sip of her gillywater.

 

Connie’s response was considered and slower in coming, “You know that Severus forced us to drastic measures. He set fire to his own ship, and hadn’t a notion of how to navigate to his goal.” 

 

“Our goal, you mean.” Minerva smacked her lips, her eyes narrowing in consideration. That taste was familiar. Intoxicating.  

 

Sniffing delicately, Connie answered, “Well, turns out it was his goal as well, he just needed a shove in the right direction, the stubborn bastard. If need be I’ll take full responsibility for the escapade, although I might need a strong second if she decides on a duel.” 

 

Whit slackened off his ministrations, leaving Minerva feeling neglected as he was engaged in the situation. “Whatever you need, love. Can’t say I’d relish facing off against her, but I could take Severus if need be. Or even Ginny Potter.” The silver-haired man twinkled a smile at Connie. 

 

Pouting, Connie lowered her lashes at Whit and whispered, “Anything?” 

 

Minerva broke into the tension between her two friends, “For my sake, wait until later? I can’t stand it.” She hiccupped. “ _ What _ is in this drink? It is familiar but I can’t quite place it.” 

Prudently Whit got up and plucked the glass from Minerva’s hand, sniffing at it. 

 

Legs crossed and one foot tapping with irritation, Connie bit out, “ _ Nepeta cataria _ .” 

 

Eyes dilated, Minerva turned her attention fully on Connie, her mouth pulled up in one corner in a smirk. “You are a total bitch.” She stretched in her chair languidly before returning her hands to her lap, interlacing them there. 

 

“I thought you liked…” 

 

“Shut up, Connie.” Minerva’s eyes were closed, lids heavy. 

 

Whit put the glass down and vanished the contents. “What did you hope to achieve, Connie?” 

 

Rolling one shoulder with indifference, “Just wanted to see what she was like with her hair down. I wouldn’t take advantage, mind you.”

 

Sighing, Whit pulled over a chair. “You are rather inconsiderate. Really, you need to be more careful.”

 

Connie sighed dramatically and took another swig from her own shimmering pink cocktail. “I suppose you are right.” She flashed an unrepentant smile at Whit. “Going to spank me, darling?” 

 

Growling, Whit answered, “I ought to.” 

 

A throaty laugh preceded her response, “Later. Now, we need to see this through. Tonight was an excellent start, but surely Severus needs a plan.” 

 

Minerva cracked open an eye, startling the couple by saying, “He’s only got one more day before Miss.. I mean Professor Granger departs for home.” They had thought her asleep. 

 

Scratching thick fingers through his beard in thought, Whit continued that line of thinking. “That isn’t very good. They only connected tonight. What if Severus decides to back away, lose his nerve? Until he’s certain of Hermione’s regard, he’s a risk.” 

 

Eyes widening dramatically, Connie grinned. “Oh, well. I’ve a lovely idea. It will be challenging, and I’ll need some help to create a distraction.” 

 

Minerva purred, “I’m not going to become a man for you, Connie. I’ve been there, done that. I didn’t really enjoy it.” 

 

“Oh no. Never that again. It was a drastic measure, Minnie. Now keep up. We have already done some of the footwork. Professor Granger helped after all.“ 

 

Whit and Connie talked over the idea together while Minerva drowsed in the heat of the fire. Twenty minutes later, a gentle hand on her shoulder roused her from a lovely vision of magical babies with wild curly black hair and laughing dark eyes. A low voice murmured, “Let’s get you to bed, Headmistress. It is too late, and you need your rest.” 

 

Snorting, Minerva blinked blearily as Whit easily gathered her up into his arms and carried her up the winding stair to her chambers. It did not occur to her to ask how he knew where the door was, or how to navigate the space in the low light. Connie’s hand smoothed away the hair out of her face and pulled up the covers before summoning a headache potion to the nightstand alongside a glass of water.   
  


* * *

 

A short time later, Whittington Nott navigated the hallways and stairs that led him to Severus Snape’s chambers. As he walked, he whistled snatches here and there of the Twelve Days of Christmas.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is a new piece that will link Trahe Me Post Te to the next work in the series, "The Twelve Days of Christmas." I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
